


Space and death aren't so bad with you here for me.

by orphan_account



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Clara the astronaut because she needs conent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Give Clara her own tag, How Do I Tag, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Music is a drug I'm addicted to, NO DEATH, chirp, space, suicidal thoughts are implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tommy listens to Chirp for the 23rd time in a week. The effect hasn't changed once, just gotten stronger.(aka Chirp is my favorite disc and Tommy liking it gave me validation, I'm projecting my own feelings with it. That will come a bit later, for now it's all exile angst)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit & Clara
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Space and death aren't so bad with you here for me.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to make this a series, let me know what I can do to improve.

Tommy slid down the side of the wall, staring over the ocean. The waves lapped quietly against the shore, filling the emptiness in his ears with white noise. He sighed, glancing down at his hands again. They were bruised, bloodied from the splinters he'd given himself cutting new tools everyday, not to mention the stones he got cut on while mining. His mind felt empty, but not in a way he liked. He wasn't lucky enough to have the numbness an empty mind could give. He felt fuzzy, like his senses were dulled. That was a dangerous thing out here in the wilderness. 

He was lucky that Dream still came by everyday. He made sure Tommy wasn't blown up, well not by anything but him. Dream kept his dullness down to a minimum. "I'm all messed up and shit aren't I?" He asked, glancing to look for his dead brother. No one, he was alone again. He wasn't surprised. Still he continued speaking, Dream was annoyed when he was hard to understand. It was harder to speak to dream when he didn't use his voice much. "I sit around all day and do nothing. I'm a boring person now, it's liked me head's been stuffed up and I can't get the bloody stuff out if it. No wonder I'm alone, I'm too bore'n to get any attention." Tommy scolded himself, forcing his way up to a standing position. "You gotta get something or what'll you talk 'bout with Dream? Grab some cobble and get building." 

He stood there for a minute, waiting for the energy to move to come to him. Like usual it never came. But Tommy was strong and didn't need to wait for anyone to give him anything. He was in charge, and he was going to build some towers today. Picking up the crudely made pickaxe he strode down into the Earth for his cobblestone. He gave himself a grin in the dull reflection of the water as he passed. Something to do would help, that's what Dream had said plenty of times before, keep moving. 

After mining for a good hour and a half, he'd collected enough cobble to be satisficed with. The land around him was silent, dampening his thought to be better mood. He looked around instinctively to show off all the stuff he'd gotten, but no one was around. He deflated a bit, grumbling, "Well I'll just start build'n then." Which he did. He made towers upon towers, none higher then ten blocks, but each had a ladder and a hole in the wall to look through. "I'll be shoot'n shit up in these, skeletons fear me already, they'll fear me more now as the tower king!" He shouted. He shouted a lot out here, his voice echoed back to him. It sounded hollow in his ears. 

Night fell, and so did Tommy's spirit, or what spirit he had. He looked through the tent's flap, eyeing the monsters waiting outside. Once these things hadn't phased him a bit, he'd even played with them, taunting them as the thorns killed 'em for him. Now he could see the long dirty claws and sharp teeth, the menace in their eyes, and the mindless hunger they possessed. Monsters were called that for a reason. He couldn't sleep, not with the groans and footsteps echoing over the flat hills he lived on. He clutched his compass, staring at the needle as it swished in the glass before settling on Tubbo. It always knew where he was, Tommy envied the certainty and purpose if the little metal cylinder. At least it knew what it was supposed to do, without ever being told to do it, or made fun of for doing what it was built for. It didn't doubt itself, or question its place in the world. The compass knew its meaning, to point its master towards his closest friend at all times. Even when he wasn't looking the compass did its job. Tommy closed his eyes again.  
"Gd'night Tubbo, bet your busy with being president. Bet you been talking to everyone about important things and papers. You got power and a cool house to live in." 

Sleep found him unwillingly, dragging him with a rebellious flare down into unconsciousness, seeming to hate him with more passion then Tommy had ever possessed. Dreaming wasn't an option with his own body acting like it was too good for rest. His night was filled with fitful tossing and turning in his bed, monsters waking him with their terrifying screams. Twice he saw that mask, the mask that haunted his every moment. He couldn't do this for much longer. 

Tommy woke up sore, sitting up from the floor he'd fallen onto at some point in the night. His hair was a mess, not that he could care. He looked out the flap, daylight streamed in, blinding him for a few seconds. What time was it? Tommy stood up aching, forcing the steak he'd cooked a few days before down his throat before he started his daily routine. First he checked his enderchest, everything was still there, same as before. Then he walked over to Logstechire, calling for Ghostbur, who was nowhere to be seen, as usual. He hit the bell a few times for "good luck" or at least to break the heavy silence that hung over his world like a hand pressing him down. Finally he picked up his sword and killed a few animals, giving him food for the day ahead and hopefully the next after that. 

"What are we doing today boys?" He asked, it helped to pretend other people were watching him, excited by the idea that they would get to watch The Tommyinnit doing his day to day like some big adventure. He didn't feel as alone with hundreds captivated by everything he did. "Boys boys we can't go back to L'manburg we've been over that everybody. Dream said no and I'm not gonna be the one to disobey." He argued with the "audience", listening for a reply. His subconscious supplied him one. " Light up the area so monsters won't get in?" he paused. That wasn't such a bad idea, well of course it was a good idea, it was his idea after all. "Maybe I'd finally be able to get some sleep." He glanced over the water, it looked inviting, maybe he could go spend the day in there instead? Enjoy the dolphins comfort? Sink down for awhile and float around?

He sighed. "Boys, I don't think there's much to see 'ere today. I'm feel'n all crap today." He gave up trying to talk with the people he wanted to be watching. They really wouldn't care about seeing him lay around all day long. Still, he could rest for a few minutes right? Wasn't like he was doing much anyway. 

He walked towards the sandy shoreline, water lapping at his feet, inviting him down, calling for him to swim and never stop swimming. He shook his head, He was no poet or any philosophical shit like that. He wasn't a nerd like Technoblade. All those stories had warped his brain, everything to him was some kind of epic tale. Life wasn't like that, you didn't just wake up and become the hero or the villain. Life wasn't a story people told others around a fire, or made you study in school. Life was the parts everyone skips over in the assignments, those parts that just take up words in the book. Sometimes it was all mushy, other times boring. Good stories had action, not waiting around and talking about things to people. 

A calm voice pulled him out of his head. "I asked you a question Tommy."


End file.
